Silver Plumes of Moon
by zoaroko
Summary: Hanzo Shimada has killed his brother and run away from the clan. On his way out of his old clan life, he meets Jesse Mccree, a young cowboy on a mission with Gabriel Reyes to infiltrate and gather intel on the very clan that Hanzo wants to escape from. The last thing he wants to do is go back. But he can't help it, he is absolutely enamored with this mysterious man.
1. Chapter 1

It's been one day. Hanzo Shimada raced across the rooftops of Hanamura with adept feet, careful not to make a sound. Reaching under his hooded cloak, he ripped the twin spiraling dragons, the Shimada Clan crest, off of his shoulder, threw it down, and didn't look back. He didn't watch it flutter to the ground, forgotten and torn at the seams. Grief and anger gripped at his insides like cold unforgiving claws, ready to tear him apart at the first sign of weakness. The memories of the terrible fight with his younger brother were still fresh in his mind. Everything, from the stinging wounds inflicted by the growling Dragonblade to the soreness of his throat from his woeful battle cries and their tearful accusations. All of his thoughts blurred together, and he gave a futile effort to shake his head to clear them away. His long hair fell into his face, and he raised a hand to brush the strands away. The scarred and calloused hand only reminded Hanzo further of his battle, and he growled in frustration, forcing all his willpower into pulling himself out of the painful memory.

Hanzo's pace slowed to a stop on top of a familiar building, the eerie glow of the plasma signs illuminated the stone paved streets below with a cold blue aura. He stared at his feet, trying to recall when he had seen the place before. His dark cloak fluttered around his legs, and the cool fall breeze whipped past him, roaring in his ears and drowning out his thoughts. He pulled the hood over his head and lowered himself off the roof, finding footholds on the windowsills of some hopefully unoccupied rooms. His Shimada Clan training kicking in, he hit the ground, tucked into a roll, repositioned onto his feet swiftly, and jogged around silently to the front of the building. The blue sign above the large doorway quickly informed him that he was in front of a hotel. Poorly cared for plants drooped over the entrance, and the consistent whirring of the generator made it hard to think at all. It was familiar, but Hanzo couldn't quite put a finger on when he had been here before, and why he would want to come here at all. It seemed more like someplace he'd go out of his way to avoid. Unease prickled the back of his mind, and he folded his arms in an attempt to fend off the cold breeze; pushing his doubts aside, he ducked under a dying plant, pushed aside the swinging front doors, and entered a dimly lit lobby.

Instantly, he was astonished. Fake plastic house plants decorated nearly every possible location you could think to place a pot or a container, mismatched chairs and tables crowded any walking space there could have been, the chandelier was missing about two-thirds of its light bulbs, and the small receptionist looked overworked and half asleep. Hanzo strode up to the counter, nearly falling over a few hundred disgusting chairs on his way; all of them looked like they had been picked out by a grandmother with failing eyesight. If he had been here before, he could see why he didn't remember any of the details.

"Hello." He smiled, or attempted to, and tried for a simple greeting. The receptionist woke with a start and yelped. She seemed to have been asleep standing up, which he didn't understand because this place had a few thousand seats extra.

"O-Oh, I'm terribly sorry sir… please don't tell my boss." She pleaded with him, tears beginning to form behind her rounded spectacles. The young receptionist paused, her expression betraying that she recognized the famed assassin. She gasped and her mouth dropped open, pointing at him in surprise, "Wait you're from the-" Hanzo gasped and cut her off by waving his hands in a panic.

"Shush! Anyone could be listening!" He whispered harshly, leaning in closer so she could hear him, "I am in deep trouble with the clan right now." He placed his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his hands. Not mentioning the fact that it was much more serious than a simple misconduct, Hanzo stared at the receptionist. "I feel like I know you from somewhere." He said, wracking his memories for answers.

This was a mistake, his brain automatically flew back to the fight the day before. Redness tinted his vision, and rage engulfed his senses. Genji's shocked expression flashed before him, the sense of betrayal was etched clearly onto his face. The clashing sounds of swords, shurikens, and arrows were amplified in his mind. He grunted, straining to block out the deafening roars of the dragons caught in a deadly altercation. "Brother!" The younger ninja's voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away, "I don't want to fight you!"

"You do not get a choice!" Hanzo yelled, jabbing at the air in front of him in an attempt to break the spell that was holding him. The receptionist cried out and stumbled backward, the assassin's palm strike narrowly missing her face. Hanzo stopped, confused, and slowly backed out of his stance. "What… just happened?" Looking up from his clenched hands, he saw the cowering receptionist and immediately felt guilt blossoming in his stomach. Hanzo bowed in shame, almost hitting his head about seven times, forgetting that he didn't have much room amongst the chairs and tables, "A-Apologies, I did not mean to scare you..." He paused, unable to recall if he had asked for her name "Ah, I am very sorry, what is your name?" He held out his other hand for a handshake, hoping to patch up their rather terrible introduction.

"Yan-Ling Zhou…" She said pushing her glasses back onto her nose, tentatively shaking his hand, "It's Chinese…" Fixing her glasses and clearing her throat, she attempted to preserve her dignity. "I-I think you know me from somewhere because you came here once before… I remember seeing Genji dragging you here to meet with his fan club." Yan giggled, "I was a part of the fan club too at that time, I was the one who told you that I liked your hair." Hanzo's hands instinctively rose to his head. He was taken aback and pushed aside the painful reminder of Genji with all his willpower.

"I seem to recall something like that. Yes." Hanzo said, pulling up the nearest chair, which was right under his butt anyways, and taking a seat. "My br- Genji's fan club… does it still meet here?" Yan pursed her lips and nodded rigidly, handing him a surprisingly well-made schedule of the times the fan club was supposed to meet. One of the times was in… exactly ten minutes. "Oh no," Hanzo whispered, glancing at the clock, and lifting the hood of his cloak up and over his head just as three exceptionally talkative females walked through the front door. They navigated through the dumpster heap of chairs and tables with surprising comfort and agility. "Is this why there are so many chairs? How many people are in this fan club now, Zhou?!" He hissed, as a few more people strolled through the doorway.

"Oh, I counted last time, hold on." Taking out a clipboard with a few pieces of paper on it, she showed him the tally total… "Uh, forty-nine people." Hanzo cursed with colorful language and tried to make for the stairs or the back door, only to realize that he had, in his panic, turned towards all of the people who were sitting behind him.

"Guys! It's Hanzo Shimada!" screamed one guy who seemed to be cosplaying as a Shimada Clan assassin. A few of the younger kids gaped at him and pulled out their devices to take pictures. The rest of them noisily conversed among themselves, and one person got up and tried to maneuver himself to Hanzo.

Hanzo felt panic gripping at his chest, he wanted to get out of the room, these Genji fans didn't know what had happened to their beloved ninja yet. His breathing grew faster and his heart pounded against his chest, and he fell backward onto a chair as his legs grew weak. A feeling of dread swallowed him and he felt like he was losing control. His knees shook and his palms grew damp. The reminder that so many people cared for and loved Genji made Hanzo's guilt grow a thousand times worse. "Leave me alone!" He yelled, tears welling in his panicked eyes. He leapt over the chairs, sprinting for the exit. Hanzo felt the confused stares of the Genji fan club members drilling into him. Self-conscious and terrified of what would happen to him if he didn't get out of there immediately, he flung the door open with his shaky hands and barrelled past a group of fans who were walking down the road towards the hotel. Their curious eyes all stared at him, prying at him, wanting to know why he was running. Yan called out, worried. Hanzo pretended he didn't hear her, he felt like he would lose himself if he stayed any longer. Yes, these people were all his enemies, they wanted nothing more than to see him broken. Terrified and confused, Hanzo kicked off the ground, climbed back onto the roof of the building, and disappeared from sight.

Clutching at his chest with shaking hands, he waited until his heart wasn't trying to escape from his chest, and continued his journey across the rooftops of Hanamura. Too afraid to stop, Hanzo traveled the entire night in silence, going where his unsteady feet carried him. When his fears and shaking hands had subsided into nothing but memories, the sun had risen well into the sky. Hanzo collapsed beneath a tree and regarded himself with disgust. Why had he lost it back there? What had gotten into him? Tired beyond belief, he fell asleep leaning against the rough bark before he could complete another thought.

"You're finally awake, kid." A gruff voice with a slight Spanish accent cut through his dulled senses and jolted him to his feet. Recalling where he was after a moment's hesitation, Hanzo dove towards the sound of the mysterious voice and tackled the large figure to the ground, catching him by surprise. He remembered all the events of yesterday night as they fell to the forest floor, each of them struggling to gain the upper hand. Debris from the ground dug into Hanzo's limbs, and the rising sun was bright in his eyes. The man grunted and pried Hanzo off of him with significant effort. The assassin rolled backward, took the momentum with him, and came up in a kneel. "Kid, you're a lot stronger than you look!" The man sat his butt down a good distance away from the young ninja and dusted forest debris off his entirely black outfit. "Hey genius, you were asleep against a tree in the middle of Shimada Clan stomping grounds, I couldn't just leave you here." The man folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, clearly anticipating some kind of apology or at least a response. All of the ninja's senses screamed at him to leave the area immediately. When Hanzo said nothing and looked away, the mystery man threw his hands in the air, frustrated, "Do you even speak English? Do I have to go all watashi-wa and honto-ni again?" He got to his knees and made to stand up, "Whatever." He grumbled.

"Apologies, I do speak English." Hanzo said, holding up a hand to stop the man from getting up and leaving. He sighed, trying to look anywhere but the stranger's eyes, embarrassed at his sheepish behavior. It wasn't like him. "I was having a rough day yesterday…" What an understatement. "You say this is Shimada Clan territory?" His hands crept instinctively towards his weapons, the fact that he so carelessly fell asleep within the grounds of the clan meant that he was getting too comfortable already. "I am on the run from the Shimada Clan… Thank you for keeping watch." He bowed slightly and extended his arm in awkward greeting; he seemed to be having a lot of those lately, "What is your name, stranger?"

"Gabriel Reyes." He huffed, returning Hanzo's handshake. Gabriel's hand was scarred and worn; the young ninja could tell that the man had significant combat training. "And who are you supposed to be?" Gabriel muttered, his expression remaining stoic and unimpressed. Hanzo had encountered many people like this before, and they always had a fall from grace. This man would be no exception. Hanzo approached the topic cautiously."Hanzo… Shimada." He said, after a moment's hesitation. He regretted revealing his last name almost immediately when Gabriel's eyes widened. Cursing himself for being so reckless, he clenched his fists, hoping that this man would understand the trouble he had to be in to be on the run from the Shimada Clan. "I-I think I should remove myself from the Shimada Clan territory for right now, excuse me." Hanzo leaped to his feet and assumed a quick pace out of the forest, or it would have been quick if Gabriel Reyes did not get up and follow him.

"Kid, I can't just let you go wandering around like a lost puppy." He said, stomping up behind Hanzo and placing a hand on the young ninja's shoulder. Hanzo wanted to shrug the man off and continue without him. "You think you can fight off a Shimada Clan patrol all by yourself?" Gabriel said, shaking his head as if Hanzo was considering jumping into a fight all by himself anyways.

"The only way I'll get into a fight is if you alert everyone in a hundred-foot radius of your arrival with loud footsteps," Hanzo muttered. Gabriel looked taken aback, his hand flew to his chest, the leather that he worse making loud scrunching sounds.

"Me? Make a ruckus?" He huffed, his voice betraying his offense, "Kid, I'd never." as he marched on ahead, boots making more noise than an entire army. Hanzo had never seen someone contradict themselves so quickly before. "You coming or not, Shimada?" Gabriel shouted, his gruff voice bouncing through the trees. Hanzo flinched and half expected Shimada assassins to come flying out of the forest in packs. He cursed himself and jogged to catch up, hoping that wouldn't happen.

Surprisingly they did not encounter a patrol on their way out of the woods. Hanzo had tried to teach Gabriel how to be stealthier but all of his instructions seemed to have no effect. The poor man just wouldn't stop stomping his way through the brush. More than once the young ninja wanted to put Gabriel's entire outfit on mute. "Shimada, if you think I'm a loud guy you should see my disciple." He said, most likely defending himself. "The guy makes more noise sitting still than I could ever imagine." Gabriel massaged his temple in annoyance. Hanzo was admittedly getting used to his presence, even though Gabriel seemed to be nonchalant or mad about everything, he had his moments.

As the trees thinned and the sky opened up above his head, Hanzo slowed his pace on the edge of the forest. This was it. After living all of his life in the grasps of the Shimada Clan, he was about to leave their territory for good. Hanzo almost cried right then and there at the thought of being free from his burden. Gabriel gave him a strong pat on the back, nearly toppling the distracted ninja off his feet, "What are you gonna do now, Shimada?" He said, the question hanging in the air for a few seconds. Hanzo could almost feel another intent forming behind the words that Gabriel uttered.

"I am going to head for a new life. Maybe put my Shimada Clan training to use, take up assassination jobs." He said, forming his thoughts as he spoke. Hanzo was surprised that he hadn't given his life more thought, it sounded sad, estranged assassination jobs. He almost felt sorry for himself.

It seemed that Gabriel did too because he shook his head and chuckled, "I guess you haven't given it much thought, kid." He pursed his lips and turned his head towards Hanzo, with a calculating look in his eyes. "I'll let you in on something, Shimada." Gabriel muttered, like a schoolgirl telling a secret, he sounded excited, "Me and my disciple, we're on a special ops mission for Overwatch, you've heard of us." Hanzo had in fact not heard of Overwatch, he had been too sheltered within his clan life to know of anything much happening outside of Hanamura. He let Gabriel continue anyways, thinking that he would explain. Of course, he didn't. "You've got intel on the Shimada Clan, and you know the complex." Gabriel pointed to himself, "We've got no way of knowing what your former clanmates have got in store for us, so if we're gonna strike a deal with them, we need your help. Are you in?" He held out his hand for a handshake, clearly expecting Hanzo to agree without a problem.

"No thank you," Hanzo snapped, clenching his fists and regarding the offer with disgust. The last thing he ever wanted to do was associate himself with the Shimada Clan. The elder clan members who pushed him past the breaking point, giving him no other option but to kill his own brother. How could he ever forgive them? How could he ever forgive himself? "I cannot. If they find out I am working against them, my charges and sins will be doubled." Hoping that his excuse was convincing enough, he slid away from Gabriel Reyes and began walking towards the town at the bottom of the forest hill. Glancing back, he swore he could see the man's eyes flash with anger and disbelief.  
"Let me know if you change your mind, Shimada. I'm staying in this town as well, at the Midday Hotel." Gabriel called after him, "Your help could prove to be invaluable." Hanzo ignored him and kept walking. Nothing on earth that he knew could change his mind about leaving the Shimada Clan behind for good.

After leaving Gabriel Reyes on the edge of the woods, Hanzo quickly found that he had no idea what he was going to do next. Everything about this town was out of place, it wasn't as peaceful or beautiful as Hanamura, and all the shops were either dilapidated or filthy. The hunger that he previously felt was slowly disappearing as he saw all the unsanitary shops and restaurants. Was every place outside of Hanamura like this? His father had spoken of the world's crumbling condition, but Hanzo would have never thought it would be so close to home. Wandering around the unfamiliar streets, Hanzo came across a friendly shop title, Rikimaru Ramen. Surprised to see something so homely in a place like this, he found himself instinctively walking through the doorway.

Even the layout of the shop was the same. Hanzo felt a prickle of nostalgia as soon as he lowered himself into his usual seat at the counter. No one was behind the register, as it was still too early for anyone to logically be having lunch. He sighed, gazing at the empty chair beside him, where Genji usually sat when they went to have lunch together. Realizing his mistake too late, the memories of his arduous fight began to consume him again. That is, until someone wearing an exceptional amount of spurs walked through the front door. Hanzo jerked his head around in surprise, staring at the new stranger, who was weirdly dressed, almost like a cowboy. Embarrassed at being caught so off guard, Hanzo spun back around and picked up the menu, pretending to act natural.

"Figured it was too early to be havin' lunch." The stranger muttered, his spurs clanking as he walked closer, lowering himself into the seat next to Hanzo. The young ninja had sworn that Gabriel won the loudest outfit contest, but now he had some tough competition. "Got a bit peckish, can't blame me now, can ya?" He said, addressing no one in particular. The stranger was scruffy, definitely needed a shave, and was sporting a heavy southern accent; Hanzo doubted he was an actual cowboy, but he seemed to be doing a good job of looking and sounding like one. Noticing Hanzo for the first time, the stranger tipped his hat up and grinned, "Howdy; The name's McCree."

Smoke curled away from an incense stick. The lanterns above their heads swayed as the midday breeze flew in from the open doorway. An orange glow flickering over the countertops distracted Hanzo for a second. He realized it might be rude for him to be openly carrying a weapon in a ramen shop, but McCree didn't seem to mind the three-foot bow strapped to his back.

"Mighty fine town, ain't it?" The young ninja was snapped back into reality by the cowboy's smooth, tenor voice. Embarrassed at being caught off guard again, Hanzo scoffed and shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"It is not as nice as Hanamura, but I will not complain if there is Rikimaru Ramen." He joked, pretending to have been engrossed in the menu, which consisted of exactly four items.

"Hanamura you say? Looks like Robin Hood's from the big leagues," McCree whistled, tapping his foot on the ground and jostling his spurs.

"Excuse me?" Hanzo winced at the noise, only understanding about four of the words that the cowboy said. Having been completely sheltered in Shimada Clan training, he had no idea who Robin Hood was and why this man was in the supposed big leagues.

Conveniently, the ramen shopkeeper interrupted their exchange. He appeared through the curtains behind the counter and apologized sincerely for not realizing they were there earlier. Taking their orders, McCree making his with some heavily accented Japanese, he gave them several more apologies and bowed as he went to take care of their food. He left an awkward silence in his wake as the two men at the counter thought of what to say to one another. Glancing at each other, they both started talking at the same time. Hanzo sighed in defeat and motioned for the cowboy to continue.

"I, uh- Sorry. I don't think I ever got yer name, darlin'." McCree said, shuffling his spurred boots on the floor and tilting his hat up out of his face.

"Hanzo... Shimada." The young ninja said without thinking. Not realizing, again, that the people here were highly aware of what the Shimada Clan was and how dangerous they were. Turns out, there were at least two people in this town who were working on taking them down right now. His bloodline might get him into trouble; he had to be more careful. McCree glanced over at Hanzo warily, the cowboy seemed to be acting more on guard, which was understandable. He was in the presence of a skilled assassin after all.

"Did I hear that right?" McCree stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it, "What'd ya say yer last name was? Shimada?" The cowboy chuckled, surprisingly. Hanzo thought McCree would have bolted out of the door right then and there. "Aw! shucks, who'd've thought!" He started to laugh even harder, thoroughly confusing the young ninja.

"What is so funny to you?" Hanzo muttered, suddenly very interested in the chopsticks on the counter, trying to hide his confusion. McCree leaned over, a little too close for comfort, and jabbed the young ninja lightly. Why was every American so intent on getting personal with him today?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told ya!" The cowboy said, still chuckling as he leaned an elbow on the counter for support. "Listen, partner." McCree said, his tone still full of amusement, "I was thinkin' maybe you could teach me a thing or two about swords. I've always wanted to learn." Two bowls of ramen appeared in front of them, interrupting Hanzo's train of thought as he raised his chopsticks and brought his lunch closer to him. Ignoring McCree's question, he eagerly began to eat. "So… s'that a yes?" He nudged Hanzo with an elbow repeatedly, making the ninja drop the noodles that he was bringing to his mouth.

Hanzo sighed, turning to McCree with a dejected look on his face, "Why?" He snapped, trying to picture the loud cowboy using a stealthy weapon like the katana. He'd probably wind up dead long before he could even get within melee distance. "You would make a fool of yourself with a katana." Hanzo brought noodles to his mouth once more, thinking the conversation done.  
"Yeah but… looks cool." McCree twirled a chopstick around his finger for effect and promptly dropped it onto the counter, "Shoot-" He scrambled to pick it up, "- I'd really like to learn how t'do all that fancy twirly slicy stuff." The cowboy elbowed Hanzo again, to the young ninja's dismay, making him drop another mouthful of noodles.

"I swore off the sword when I left the clan," Hanzo snapped, impatiently slurping his lunch before the man could say something else.

"Oh." McCree lowered his head, disappointed. The assassin almost felt bad for him. Almost. Bringing his attention to the feet traveling across the paved road, Hanzo noticed something. The streets were getting noisier by the minute; he wanted was to get out of there and off to a different town before the sun had set. After he left this town, it wasn't going to be easy, relying only on himself to survive and seeking redemption for his misled actions.  
Hanzo stood with purpose and was just about to push his stool back into the counter when McCree looked up with noodles dangling out of his mouth and motioned for him to sit.

"What. Now." Hanzo said impatiently through his gritted teeth, looking away from McCree's disgusting table manners. He took a seat anyways and folded his arms to indicate his frustration.

"I ain't done yet, partner." McCree elbowed Hanzo's ribs again as he finally finished his bowl of ramen, "You can't just leave yer new friend behind now, right?" The cowboy swung his legs around and hopped off the stool, indicating that he probably wasn't going the leave Hanzo alone. It was no matter. The stealthy assassin could shake him off somewhere along the way and leave town on his own. As Hanzo passed through the doorway of Rikimaru Ramen, McCree was not far behind.

Allowing his thoughts to drift, the ninja took in his surroundings. He supposed that this place was not all that bad. People jostled him as they rushed by in the streets, but he mostly paid them no mind. Hanzo was half aware of the cowboy's noisy spurs jingling, shadowing every step he took. lingered not far off in the distance; he appreciated the familiar sight of its majestic snowy peak. The weather felt just right to him, perfect for initiating small talk with the guards… only, he didn't have any guards now. This wasn't the Shimada Clan complex anymore. Shaking his head, Hanzo quickly cleared the distinct memory of speaking with a Shimada out of his mind, trying to focus only on the future. Nevertheless, a certain mop of green hair popped into his thoughts; the boy's face appeared, stretched wide in a grin; his encouraging thumbs up optimistic, obnoxious, and pointed in Hanzo's direction.

"Now is not the time, Genji." The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. McCree stopped blabbering about something called "Burritos" and raised an eyebrow.

"Who now? That ain't my name, darlin'; s'yer brain workin'?" Falling into step beside Hanzo, the cowboy gave him an amused, yet concerned glance. Their footsteps slowed on the stone paved road, which tilted down the hillside in a steep incline. The mountain was still visible in the distance, and Hanzo anchored himself to it, the one familiar sight he had. The Clan, once again, was a detriment to his current situation. They had done everything for him, from making his friends to fixing his meals. The strictness of it all had left him with no independence, no decision-making skills. He started to panic again. Not good, especially in front of what could still be a potential enemy. Distinctly aware of McCree asking him something, Hanzo slid his hands closer to his bow. "Y'alright? You look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'." Words he could make out, but had dissonance, as if said from a completely different room. Feeling his way around, his mind bogged down by the weight of his own fears, Hanzo whipped out his bow and holstered an arrow. He felt clumsy; sluggish, almost. A familiar dragon's roar sounded in his ears, crashing through his mind and spiraling through the air. They've come to judge him. After they have consumed so many of his enemies, they were coming for him.

"I know I am not worthy, leave me be!" He growled, pulling back the bowstring threateningly, his arms trembling under the might of the mighty Shimada spirit dragons. Feeling cowardice overwhelm his senses, Hanzo let an arrow fly at the glowing blue apparitions.

"Woah, there! Watch it, Shimada; what're ya firin' at?!" The cowboy yelped and ducked his head, despite the arrow missing him by miles. The young ninja snapped his head towards McCree, whose usual placid expression held genuine confusion and fear. No one else on the street looked disturbed. They had only cried out and dispersed as he fired his arrow. The thought that he might be the only one who could see the colossal spirit dragons terrified him; he scaled the side of a building with less care than usual and stumbled onto the roof. "Wh-Where're ya goin'?! Hanzo?" A call sounded, far away. He didn't care, the dragons were gone, perhaps sparing him for another day; turning tail and running away, he was a coward. Not afraid to admit his own fear, Hanzo slumped on the flat rooftop. The panic, still growing worse, left him feeling foolish.

Focusing on Mt. Fuji once again, he simply looked at the view. Clotheslines hung from the even roofs and created row after row of color; the people in the crowded streets looked insignificant; the cars in the roads inched along like bugs. He almost felt at home again, in the zen garden with Genji, their legs hanging off the balcony as they conversed about their assassin training. Yes, in just a few minutes, one of the guards would retrieve them for their next session… They would be whole again. Genji. He would still be alive. None of this would have happened.

Hanzo clenched his bow in his hands. Don't open your eyes. He commanded himself. None of this is real. He assured himself.

"Genji, you always did slack in training. Maybe it cost you in the end." The wind seemed to whisk his words away as they left his lips. A clear image appeared before him, an orange scarf, dancing on the clothesline before him. But in his mind, it was draped behind the carrot headed idiot; flecks of red seeped through the fabric, painting the cloth with Hanzo's follies. Tears mixed with blood, creating a swirling pond in his mind. Who knows when the whirlpool will cease?


	2. Chapter 2

"I am in shambles." Hanzo admitted, his voice cracking with the effort of speech. The previous panic he felt lifted slowly; it brought him to the realization that the twirling dragons he had seen were simply hallucinations of some kind. Embarrassment flooded his limbs. He groaned and dared to turn his eyes to the streets below. The vantage point upon the flat roof of the tavern allowed him to only see the tops of people's heads. Straining to see from where he sat, Hanzo veered over the ledge slightly and looked for his new "friend." He almost felt bad for ditching McCree in his moment of panic. Almost.

It wasn't hard to spot the tacky cowboy lingering at the head of the crowd that had gathered.

"Hanzo?" McCree's head tilted back and his eyes appeared from under the brim of his hat. Hanzo scuttled back over the edge, but McCree didn't seem to see that Hanzo was still, in fact, right above him. He shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight with a gloved hand. "Don't leave me hangin' here," - he glanced back at the crowd of people behind him - "This is kinda awkward; you still there?"

Hanzo felt bad, choosing to not respond. After the worst of his initial panic wore off, he gathered his wits about him. The shivering archer breathed out sharply and scrambled over to the other side of the rooftop. The accusing voices from the crowd reached his ears despite his efforts to ignore them. The young ninja heard merchants, shopkeepers, and civilians disparaging him, calling him crazy, insane, mad, schizophrenic, ugly words and many japes that were uncalled for.

"Uncouth." He muttered, disgusted that he had behaved so out of the ordinary as to warrant these accusations. His vision blurred in front of him; reaching up and wiping his eyes with his forefingers, he was shocked to discover tears falling from his face. Hanzo had let these people get to him. Father had always told him to stand stoic and unwavering in the face of opposition; now the young ninja had failed the first lesson the old man had ever given him. "Kuso." He simply muttered, allowing no time for distress. Another lesson from his father; never allow yourself to feel pity for those who don't deserve it.

He sat there for a while. It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours. The crowd thinned and got on with their lives, most of them losing interest as soon as the ruckus died down. McCree didn't move an inch from where he stood; whether it was because of worry or pity, the archer wasn't sure.

Hanzo's focus drifted, his eyes stared blankly at the floor between his feet. He could no longer trust anyone. Not the strange Americans McCree and Gabriel, not the Clan elders, not even his own mind. The last place where he was truly safe had deceived him, leading him to believe that his own two dragons were out for his blood. Foolish. Stumbling to his feet, the young ninja discovered that his legs were quaking. Electing to ignore it, Hanzo scaled down the opposite side of the tavern with significant effort, landing himself in a narrow alleyway. Dust scattered as his quiet steps brushed the ground and disturbed the filth that had gathered over concrete. The atmosphere was similar to the back-streets of Hanamura, dim and depressing with shady stores lining the cluttered road. The plasma hard-light signs swam in Hanzo's field of vision and bloated his senses, pulling his thoughts out of his own shame. Many criminals seemed to frequent places like this. Although the Shimada Clan were more than just street ruffians, Hanzo felt like he was right where he belonged.

Perhaps drowning his own inner turmoil in sake wasn't the smartest or noblest move. Loud tacky modern music droned on and on against his ears. The omnic bartender wasn't the friendliest, in the archer's opinion, glancing at Hanzo's four-foot bow with indignation and ignoring all of his requests for another round of sake.

"Sake!" He yelled for what seemed like the fifth time before the omnic obliged with a quiet sigh. He grinned in satisfaction, finally setting his raised fist down on the table. Hanzo furrowed his brow and scooted forward in his stool while the world swam around him.

"I really think you've had enough to drink." The omnic's robotic voice whispered, a bit of pity lacing his words. "Let me tell you something, only because you seem to be in a bind. The people here have been gossiping about a crazy archer who showed up out of the blue. The word might have spread to some higher authority. I think you should leave before those guys who came in after you..." he stopped and nodded his head toward a table full of shady men in dark clothing. Hanzo turned his gaze slowly, his hand trailing towards the quiver of arrows strapped to his back.

"Dammit." The archer hissed, suddenly regretting all the drinks he had downed. He had forgotten how deeply he was in trouble for just a few minutes. "The Shimadas have stooped to hiring people to track me, I see." He stated, far too intoxicated to speak clearly. There were four men huddled together, all with glasses of untouched ice water sitting upon their table. They were conversing among themselves while keeping an eye on Hanzo's actions. He caught bits and pieces of their exchange: "forced to take out" ... "Genji Shimada's fault" … "seen with Jesse McCree." Upon hearing such familiar names, Hanzo leapt to his feet and knocked an arrow in his bow. There was a sudden lull in all the conversation around the bar as the arrow flashed under the hard-light fixtures. How did these people know about McCree and Genji? Had they been tailing him since he left Hanamura?

The omnic bartender flinched as the archer pulled back the bowstring further, "Sir! I'm going to have to ask you to not discharge a weapon on the premises!" People around Hanzo cried out and ducked for cover as he released an arrow that scattered and pinged off the walls.

"Get away from me you filthy yakuza!" He growled, wading through the havoc he had created. Everyone was trying to get out at the same time. He kicked over one of the wooden chairs at the mystery men's table, spilling its occupant to the ground. Papers flew off the table and the man in black hit the floorboards with an incredulous grunt. "Don't even think about following me again!" Hanzo cried, slashing his hand through the air dismissively and disappearing through the open curtain doorway.

Collapsed on top of trash bags might not have been the most elegant place to crash, but Hanzo felt like it was the best he could do right now. Maybe, if he wished hard enough, he would be able to leave this dusty old place behind, without the yakuza this time. Accepting his lonely fate as an outcast, the last thing Hanzo heard before his consciousness seeped away was the clinking of spurs and a huff of breath. He wanted to confront the annoying sound for disturbing his rest, but decided as he was drifting off, that it was probably nothing.


End file.
